


A Thin Red Line

by sonatepathetique



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Gen, Mild Violence/Unintentional
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:12:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonatepathetique/pseuds/sonatepathetique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Spencer tries to balance college and caring for his mother, he realizes that Diana's mental and physical health is deteriorating. This is a potential explanation of what occurred before the scene in "Revelations" when Reid is 18 and  explores how he came to that decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love is Never Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first fanfic, so please don't judge me too harshly. All errors are my own, please point them out if you see any...I hate typos. Also, I'm studying speech pathology and English so my stories tend to be a bit wordy. This involves my understanding of Schizophrenia and may be less than accurate since I don't personally know anyone who has this disorder. Please, bear with me and let me know what I can do to make this better.
> 
> Thanks. :)

Seventeen year old Reid slouched down the hall, his shoulders slightly hunched and his head bent toward the floor. Despite the length of his legs, crossing the three yard space was taking an exceptionally long time. He sighed as he reached the door and almost turned around and headed back down the stairs. He raised his fist, stopping just short of making contact with the white stained wood. Finally he rapped sharply on the door before he could find another excuse not to and waited for a reply.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his mother. In fact she had been rather calm last night, apparently delighted to see him. No, what he dreaded was the moments when she became someone else, someone neither of them could control. One moment she would be completely lucid, or at least relatively calm. Then suddenly she would become frenzied, hysterical, a hint of fear shining through. He lived for the moments when his mother could hold a lucid conversation or seemed happy. Over the years Spencer had learned to recognize the signs and sometimes he could forestall one of her fits or calm her down. Unfortunately those times were becoming less frequent and he was beginning to realize that it wasn’t enough anymore. He knocked again.

“Mom.” He called hoarsely. His voice stilled cracked occasionally lending to the general impression that he was an exceptionally tall thirteen-year old. “Mom, its Spencer.” 

A groggy voice answered. “Spencer, baby, what’s the matter?” Reid took the old endearment in stride, knowing his mother still saw him as a child.

“Mom, may I come in?” He heard a faint noise of response that could have either been a denial or an affirmation. He entered the room slowly, as though something dangerous lay within. The room was filled with a dim yellow glow, despite the bright light that stayed hidden just behind the drawn curtains. His mother sat in the middle of her bed, amidst piles of scattered papers, books, and a number of writing utensils. She didn’t greet him and Reid assumed that she was completely consumed with her writing. 

“Mom?” He kept his voice low and was rewarded with a raised head. Diana Reid’s hair was a glorious disarray of blond spikes around her head. She wore a slight look of confusion that was quickly replaced with a fond smile.

“Spencer, I made so much progress on my new article…I’ll read it for you.” Spencer sat down beside her and gently tugged the notepad from her hand.

“Mom, I made breakfast. Come eat with me.” She shook her head.

“Oh, Spencer, I have too much work to do. Maybe later.” Spencer had expected this, his mother skipped so many meals he sometimes wondered how she survived while he was gone. A sharp stab of guilt sliced through him.

“I know, Mom.” He agreed as he placed an arm beneath her elbow. “You can come back as soon as you’ve eaten. I made your favorite.” Diana sent a worried glance towards the bed but stood up eventually and allowed Spencer to guide her from the room.


	2. Turn the Other Cheek

Spencer had been home for two weeks without any major breakdowns or calls from concerned neighbors. Diana’s health had improved over his stay; the hollows in her cheeks had decreased some and she’d seemed strangely serene, if not exactly happy. Conversely, Spencer had grown noticeably thinner and seemed constantly on edge, his fingers rhythmically tapping on something or spinning a pen in a way that could only be partially explained by the large amounts of coffee he consumed. He was currently deciphering an algorithm for one of his theses and was finding it strangely difficult to concentrate. The first draft wasn’t due until mid-march but he liked to turn assignments in early and having nothing to occupy his mind made him even more anxious. At this moment; however, his mind refused to focus and instead he found himself counting the number of anagrams in the paper’s headline. He stood up with a sigh and turned to the coffee pot to refill his cup and then made his way down the hall. He knocked perfunctorily on his mother’s door and entered.

“Mom, breakfast-” He stopped short, seeing Diana scribbling furiously in her journal, a manic expression on her face. This was not a good sign.

“Mom.” She jumped to her feet and waved her hand frantically.

“Shh, they’ll hear you. I could hear them talking and they want it. They know, they know, Spencer. We have to stop them.” 

“Mom, come down to breakfast.” Spencer pleaded, knowing that buying into her fears only made them worse. He picked up a book that lay forgotten on the bed. "Here, I'll even read to you, "The Tales of Canterbury"." 

“No, I have to finish this before they find out.” Spencer closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. 

“Mom no one is here. Now please come with me…” He gently touched her arm and she swung out viciously. Her hand connected with his cheek, sending him reeling and nearly falling.

“No! I’m not going anywhere, you can’t take me! The government does not control me!” She screamed hysterically, her gaze swinging wildly around the room. Spencer watched her in stunned silence. His mother had never hit him before, not even in her most violent episodes. Diana spun around frantically, taking quick shallow breaths and forcing her fingers through her hair. Her eyes landed on Spencer and a horrified sound issued from her parted lips.

“Oh, Spencer.” She whispered, reaching out. “I’m so sorry.” She clasped her hands to her mouth and he tried not to flinch as she brushed her fingers over the red stripes expanding over his cheek. Tears bloomed in his mother’s eyes and he slowly wrapped his arms around her bony shoulders.

“I know, mom. It’s not your fault.” He pulled her against his chest, automatically comforting her. “I won’t let them take you, I’ll keep you safe.”  
“They made me, it wasn’t me.” She whimpered brokenly.


	3. A Thread of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reid is not very observant when it comes to women, as usual.

Spencer left two days later, even though his break didn’t end for another six. Things between him and his mother had grown stilted and strange in a way they had never been before. He’d always expected the sudden bouts of rage, hysteria, and sadness but now she seemed emotionless. She walked around the house carefully, not speaking and avoiding Spencer’s gaze. Finally it had become too much for both of them and Spencer had lied, saying he needed to return to campus early. Diana had seemed relieved and even given him a hug before he left.

As soon as he reached his small dorm room, he began doing research. He read every psychology, speech therapy, and self-help book he could get his hands on. It was a mostly pointless exercise since he’d already memorized half of them and the other half just confirmed what he already knew. He needed something to do, to know that he was actively searching for a way to help his mother. So in his spare time, when he wasn’t studying, attending classes, or student teaching, he scoured textbooks, searching for any phrase or bit of information that he could latch onto. Occasionally, as he was sitting in his uncomfortable desk chair, he would suddenly straighten, filled with excitement at some term he’d just read. 

The most recent instance had occurred earlier that day while he was skimming through a textbook with the unoriginal title "Abnormal Psychology" which he’d borrowed from a fellow TA. He felt the familiar rush of excitement as he encountered a section dealing with schizophrenia…and then the even more familiar sense of loss and a sinking heart. This textbook came to the same conclusion that every other one had: 77% of individual with schizophrenia became homeless, lived with a family member or were transitioned into a medical setting. He slammed the book shut with an uncharacteristic show of anger and suddenly wished he participated in some activity that would allow him to express his pent-up feelings.

He had first broached the topic of a group home when he was twelve and Diana had stopped taking her medication. No matter how much he wheedled she refused to take the small oval pills, complaining that they made her confused her and made her mind foggy. Spencer eventually gave in and stopped filling the prescriptions and returned the mostly full bottle to the pharmacy. 

He remembered the day that he had finally approached the couch where she had been dozing for the better part of a week. 

“Mom.” He had shaken her shoulder several times before she finally responded. She blinked sleepily and her eyes were unfocused and suddenly he forgot the speech that he had been preparing for three days. “Mom, I think we need to get you some help.” She looked out the window as she gently fingered the sleeve of his shirt.

“Oh Darling, I don’t think I’d like having a maid around the house.” Spencer had fidgeted guiltily, feeling as though he had betrayed her in some way.

“Mom, that’s not what I mean.” He persevered, only pausing to lick his lips and push his shoulder length hair out of his eyes. I think you need help. Professional help.” Diana shook her head with a smile.

“Honey, I’m just feeling a little under the weather…I’ll be fine in a few days.” Spencer pulled a sheet of paper detailing several suitable long-term options that he had thoroughly researched. 

“I found several reputable institutions…I even made a few calls” Diana shoved the paper back into his hand with a nearly violent motion.

“Spencer, I will not be put in one of those prisons!” He straightened the paper again and began to protest until she roughly grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. “I would rather die.” Spencer swallowed thickly and nodded and Diana sank back against the couch cushion. “Now why don’t you go get your thesis and I’ll proofread it for you.” She brushed her fingers through Spencer’s hair with a smile and he knew that the subject was permanently closed for discussion. 

 

Spencer was shaken from his musings by a soft voice. “Mr. Reid?” He looked up to see a young woman standing in from of his desk. Casey, his mind supplied as he shuffled his papers into a stack and placed it inside the textbook. He actually held office hours during this time, but no one usually came so he inevitably ended up studying or reading for the three hour period. 

“Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Reid.” Casey continued with a shy smile. She always called him Mr. Reid which Spencer thought sounded rather. odd especially coming from someone older than him. She also always wore dresses, today's was a deep blue, which struck him as odd as well since he knew she rode her bike to campus. Women were odd creatures in general he mused. Realizing he'd been silent for far too long, he waved a long-fingered hand to cover his lack of appropriate response. 

“Oh, that’s what I’m here for.” He gestured awkwardly to the empty room. “So, what can I help you with?” Casey eagerly pulled up a chair and removed several bits of paper covered in partially solved math problems from her backpack.

“Well, I keep getting stuck after I redistribute the factors.” She indicated one of the problems and Spencer sent the paper a brief glance.

“I see what you’re doing wrong.” He said after only a few seconds and snatched up the pencil she held in her hand and began gesturing expansively as he explained the proper process. 

If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed the hopeful expression Casey wore. He might have noticed that every time he looked up, she smiled and when he wrote she watched the movement of his hands rather than the numbers on the page. But Spencer didn’t notice such things on the best of days and in his current state Casey was left to stare longingly at his down turned head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Information concerning schizophrenia is taken from "Abnormal Psychology" ~Nolen-Hoeksem.
> 
> I'd like to believe that Reid's desire to get his psychology degree was partially influenced by his mother.


End file.
